Day 6
Goddamn I am really bad at this keeping track thing. Let me think.
Oh right.
8 AM: My parents wake me up because we have a 9 AM eye appointment and this makes me very angry. I assume I use up about 100 calories thinking vengeful thoughts.
10 AM: While waiting for my turn to be inspected I get a blueberry Jamba Juice. My temper is appeased and I finish the drink, so that's like 0 calories lost and 1000 gained. There is no winning in a diet.
10:30 AM: During my routine inspection my doctor tells me I have too many blood vessels in my eyes, or something like that. This must be where the extra weight is coming from, I think. I forgive myself for the blueberry smoothie.
12:00 PM: We have pho for lunch and my mom tells my dad to leave our bowls alone. Carolyn: 1, Dad: 0. Except I wasn't that hungry so I didn't finish it. Oops. Pho: 1, Carolyn: 0, Dad: 0.
2:00 PM: My parents have to go do some boring grown up thing like handle finances so we can eat or whatever, so they drop me and Iz off at the mall. This is good exercise because Saturday is the only day I don't have yoga and trying on clothes can be really tiring. Especially when you are so sore it takes you like five minutes to pull a shirt over your head and when you come out the dressing room lady keeps giving you dirty looks because she has a five person line and you wish it was standard custom to tip dressing room ladies because you would totally not give her any money, or maybe a gum wrapper because this stupid dressing room doesn't have any trash cans.
4:00 PM: It seems our parents have abandoned us to be mall orphans and I'm really thirsty so we go to the Target food court (hehe) and I buy a mango smoothie on the grounds that is must be less fattening than an Icee, and fruit is healthy. I then have the following conversation with the food court girl --
Me: Hi, how big is your mango smoothie?
FCG: We have one size only.
Me: Okay, what size is it?
FCG: There is only one.
Me: I know there is only -- okay, can I see the cup?
FCG: Cup?
Me: Yeah.
FCG: Yes it comes in a cup.
Me: GODDAMN IT I HATE YOU.
Me, in reality: I-- okay yeah, can I have a mango smoothie?
And then she saunters over to the machine and fills this cup up with mango smoothie and comes back and plops it on the counter without a cap or straw or anything, and it took so much effort on my part not to throw a fit that would have resulted in multiple mango injuries that I figure I burned all the calories in that smoothie anyway. So it doesn't really count.
8:00 PM: My mom makes this super spicy noodle thing for dinner and it's so spicy my mouth goes numb and I can't taste anything, and I'm pretty sure if you can't taste anything you don't gain weight. So it was a pretty good diet day.
Day 7
10:00 AM: Yoga class. I'm so sore I have to rest in between turns of the wheel when I'm driving but for some reason I don't feel any of it when I'm doing yoga. Maybe downward dog is magical? Today there is a new instructor and she has us do this pose that's a downward dog with one leg off to the side and she calls it "dog at tree" and I feel this is not very yogatastic because when I do yoga I like to pretend to be a calm and peaceful person and excrement does not inspire those feelings within me. I am not too pleased with her.
11: 30 AM: At the end of the class the instructor asks me and Iz how old we are and when I reply she indicates that she thought I was a teenager, because she was going to ask us if teens would be interested in a yoga class specifically designed for them. I decide 21 is old enough to be flattered if someone thinks you are younger so I forgive her.
1:00 PM: For lunch Iz and my dad get the same spicy noodle as last night but my mom makes me a separate meal of wontons because she says the noodle was too spicy for me. This means I can taste every delicious morsel of my meal so I assume I gained like thirty pounds from it. My mom is sending me mixed messages.
5:00 PM: For dinner I have some tofu and fish and broth. I know I'm going to be hungry later.
11:00 PM: Jesus I'm hungry. Actually the hunger has come later than I expected so I reward myself with some Special K cereal. All is going well until Iz comes and sits next to me and eats two croissants and then I eat one and we both have some chips and salsa and it's all downhill from there. Have I mentioned I hate my sister?
Day 8
10:00 AM: My alarm rings for yoga. My sleepy mind goes through the pros and cons of waking up.
Pros: I want to do yoga.
Cons: I'd have to get out of bed.
Pros: I could wear my cute new boots.
Cons: No one's going to see them because I'll only wear them to drive. I don't think my yoga instructor would let me wear them during class.
This leads to..
11:30 AM: I get out of bed.
6:00 PM: I go to the library and oh my god the vending machines look really tempting but I am deterred by a bunch of tweens lining up to buy chocolate. Thank you, tweens. You may have created the monstrosity that is Hannah Montana but at least you prevented me from eating 1000 empty calories.
8:00 PM: My mom is the only person I know who can make asparagus appetizing. And it's not even wrapped in bacon. Oh my god bacon would be good right now.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Ask Jamerz.
The other night I was sitting innocently in the den, doing wholesome things like protecting the rainforest and saving puppies from drowning when my sister sends me the following message:
[Iz] (9:43:12 PM) : why do ppl have anal sex?
As in such cases when I'm not sure what to reply, I pass the question off to one of my more eloquent friends.
And just like that? Question answered. This is why I have friends, everyone.
[Iz]
As in such cases when I'm not sure what to reply, I pass the question off to one of my more eloquent friends.
Carolyn (9:43:58 PM) : hey
jam3rz (9:44:04 PM) : howdy do
Carolyn(9:44:06 PM) : iz has a question
jam3rz (9:44:27 PM) : what is it?
Carolyn (9:44:29 PM) : Iz (9:43:12 PM): why do ppl have anal sex?
jam3rz (9:45:08 PM) : so that they can stay pure for christ
And just like that? Question answered. This is why I have friends, everyone.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Home Sweet Home
A collection of gems garnered from living at home:
Mom, coming into my room -- I already know what to expect because earlier Iz mentioned to me that our mom was asking why I was acting "funny" recently-- I'm not: Hi.
Me, sitting on my bed trying to hide my blog homepage so my mom doesn't get curious and, god forbid, READ IT: Oh, hello there.
Mom, flopping onto my bed in a strangely conspiratorial manner: So, what's up?
Me, warily: Nothing. We just went to yoga and had dinner together. What's up with you?
Mom: Oh, nothing... your memory foam mattress is nice, isn't it?
Me, genuinely enthused: Oh my god I love it.
Mom: Yeah, why do they call it memory foam? I slept in your room a couple of times and I was trying to sleep lightly so I wouldn't make an imprint in my shape.
Me, amused and touched, but also worried that she thought I would be spending a significant amount of time sleeping in this bedroom: It's okay, mom, you definitely spend more time here than I do.
Mom, shaking her head rigorously: No, no, no, it's your bed.
Me, figuring this is a conversation that can be saved for a later time, when my memory foam is out of the range of fire: Okay. Sure. What's up?
Mom, looking down: Nothing.. just feel like you've been distant lately.
Me: Really? I'm living here. I'm here every night. We just went to yoga together.
Mom, glaring at my open drawers: WHY ARE YOUR DRAWERS OPEN? Why do you have this habit? Do you want it to look like robbers have been through your room??
Me: Mom, calm down. I was looking for --
Mom: NO MORE OF THIS. From now on every time you leave a drawer open I will fine you ONE DOLLAR.
Me, bursting into laughter: Okay, mom.
Mom, laughing as she leaves the room: I'm serious.
Isabel, wandering in: It's okay, mom had the exact same talk with me. My room got robbed too.
Dad, in the car: Wow, time passes so fast.
Me: Yup.
Dad: Imagine, this time next year, you'll have graduated and be back living at home.
Me, in my head: WTF
Me, out loud: Mm...
Dad: Unless, of course, you get a job in LA.. I mean, it could happen.
Me, immensely relieved: Yeah, you know, if I could get a job anywhere I should probably take it.
Dad: Yeah, hopefully you'll get a job here though.
Me: Uh huh. Or L.A. Probably L.A. That's where I go to school, so it'll probably be easier. For me. To find a job. In L.A.
Dad: Maybe..
Me: Yeah. L.A.
Me: I'm going on a diet.
Dad: You don't need a diet.
Me: I do, it's diet time.
Mom, clapping: Yay! Now you'll be the best! And pretty.
Me: Well, I'm done with dinner.
Mom, coming into my room -- I already know what to expect because earlier Iz mentioned to me that our mom was asking why I was acting "funny" recently-- I'm not: Hi.
Me, sitting on my bed trying to hide my blog homepage so my mom doesn't get curious and, god forbid, READ IT: Oh, hello there.
Mom, flopping onto my bed in a strangely conspiratorial manner: So, what's up?
Me, warily: Nothing. We just went to yoga and had dinner together. What's up with you?
Mom: Oh, nothing... your memory foam mattress is nice, isn't it?
Me, genuinely enthused: Oh my god I love it.
Mom: Yeah, why do they call it memory foam? I slept in your room a couple of times and I was trying to sleep lightly so I wouldn't make an imprint in my shape.
Me, amused and touched, but also worried that she thought I would be spending a significant amount of time sleeping in this bedroom: It's okay, mom, you definitely spend more time here than I do.
Mom, shaking her head rigorously: No, no, no, it's your bed.
Me, figuring this is a conversation that can be saved for a later time, when my memory foam is out of the range of fire: Okay. Sure. What's up?
Mom, looking down: Nothing.. just feel like you've been distant lately.
Me: Really? I'm living here. I'm here every night. We just went to yoga together.
Mom, glaring at my open drawers: WHY ARE YOUR DRAWERS OPEN? Why do you have this habit? Do you want it to look like robbers have been through your room??
Me: Mom, calm down. I was looking for --
Mom: NO MORE OF THIS. From now on every time you leave a drawer open I will fine you ONE DOLLAR.
Me, bursting into laughter: Okay, mom.
Mom, laughing as she leaves the room: I'm serious.
Isabel, wandering in: It's okay, mom had the exact same talk with me. My room got robbed too.
Dad, in the car: Wow, time passes so fast.
Me: Yup.
Dad: Imagine, this time next year, you'll have graduated and be back living at home.
Me, in my head: WTF
Me, out loud: Mm...
Dad: Unless, of course, you get a job in LA.. I mean, it could happen.
Me, immensely relieved: Yeah, you know, if I could get a job anywhere I should probably take it.
Dad: Yeah, hopefully you'll get a job here though.
Me: Uh huh. Or L.A. Probably L.A. That's where I go to school, so it'll probably be easier. For me. To find a job. In L.A.
Dad: Maybe..
Me: Yeah. L.A.
Me: I'm going on a diet.
Dad: You don't need a diet.
Me: I do, it's diet time.
Mom, clapping: Yay! Now you'll be the best! And pretty.
Me: Well, I'm done with dinner.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Carolyn's Diet Days 3, 4, and 5 or, Why I (Still) Suck At Life
Day 3
Yeah I'm a really bad diet-diary keeper and can't remember what I did that day. Odds are it was like all the other days of my summer so here's what I probably did.
11 AM: Wake up to a text from Tando calling me lazy.
12 PM: Lay in bed thinking about how unlazy I am. Get up because I'm hungry.
12:30 PM: Watch The Game and eat the (rice-less) meal my mom has left for me on the kitchen table, usually accompanied by a nagging note because even she can't lecture me while she's at her office (at least not while I'm avoiding her calls! Carolyn: 1, Mom: 0).
4:00 PM: Wonder what's for dinner.
Day 4
6 AM: Fall asleep after reading Jodi Picoult's new 477 page novel in its entirety. This isn't really diet-related unless you consider how much I read as a child instead of playing kickball, which I'm sure is where all my problems started. Also I was like totally rebellious and rejected all the societal norms and was like "I'll be as fat as I want! Screw you world!" which leaves adult me to clean up the resulting mess while enviously recalling all the carefree ice cream of my youth.
5:45 PM: Vinyasa Yoga! My first time trying it. Basically they heat up the room and then you move non-stop. Best workout ever, you feel really productive because you sweat so much. Also gross. Again because of the sweat.
7:00 PM: I'm so sore I have trouble lifting my arms to shampoo my hair. Life is good.
Day 5
10 AM: I wake up and consider getting out of bed but realize that would require moving and all my muscles are screaming about the impossibility of this task.
12 PM: I make the disheartening discovery that food will not be coming to me, so I drag my battered body off my memory foam and trudge to the kitchen. It helps that The Game is on tv. I love BET. (Iz calls it "bet")
6 PM: Yoga again. I'm so sore my downward dog looks more like an abused puppy. On the bright side, while I'm doing my stretches the instructor introduces herself to me and asks if I'm a dancer. She was probably just looking at my tights-under-shorts look but I take this to be a compliment anyway.
7:30 PM: Oh my god. Soreness compounded.
9:00 PM: On the way home my mom asks me in all seriousness, "Carolyn, are you secretly taking diet pills?"
"No," I say regretfully.
"Good," she says, relieved. "because some of those pills cause depression, you know? It's bad to take too much medicine. Besides, you aren't that fat."
I consider throwing myself out of the moving car.
2:00 AM: I guess this is technically day 6 but I don't feel like another day has come if I haven't slept yet so this goes under day 5. My dad comes home after 7 hours of mahjong (no exaggeration required) and yells at us for having more than one light on ("ELECTRICITY BILL EXPENSIVE") and I secretly think "hey if you stop losing $200 a night maybe we can afford some electricity up in here." I guess this also has nothing to do with dieting unless I can somehow connect it to the fact that I think we are totally being "financially sound" on the wrong things (like electricity and low-fat food) while spending on unnecessary things (gambling problem?). Oh look, I just did.
Oh, I'm bitchy? YOU TRY BEING SORE AND THEN DENYING YOURSELF MCDONALDS ICED COFFEE BECAUSE IT IS OVER 200 CALORIES A SERVING. YEAH I LOOKED IT UP.
Yeah I'm a really bad diet-diary keeper and can't remember what I did that day. Odds are it was like all the other days of my summer so here's what I probably did.
11 AM: Wake up to a text from Tando calling me lazy.
12 PM: Lay in bed thinking about how unlazy I am. Get up because I'm hungry.
12:30 PM: Watch The Game and eat the (rice-less) meal my mom has left for me on the kitchen table, usually accompanied by a nagging note because even she can't lecture me while she's at her office (at least not while I'm avoiding her calls! Carolyn: 1, Mom: 0).
4:00 PM: Wonder what's for dinner.
Day 4
6 AM: Fall asleep after reading Jodi Picoult's new 477 page novel in its entirety. This isn't really diet-related unless you consider how much I read as a child instead of playing kickball, which I'm sure is where all my problems started. Also I was like totally rebellious and rejected all the societal norms and was like "I'll be as fat as I want! Screw you world!" which leaves adult me to clean up the resulting mess while enviously recalling all the carefree ice cream of my youth.
5:45 PM: Vinyasa Yoga! My first time trying it. Basically they heat up the room and then you move non-stop. Best workout ever, you feel really productive because you sweat so much. Also gross. Again because of the sweat.
7:00 PM: I'm so sore I have trouble lifting my arms to shampoo my hair. Life is good.
Day 5
10 AM: I wake up and consider getting out of bed but realize that would require moving and all my muscles are screaming about the impossibility of this task.
12 PM: I make the disheartening discovery that food will not be coming to me, so I drag my battered body off my memory foam and trudge to the kitchen. It helps that The Game is on tv. I love BET. (Iz calls it "bet")
6 PM: Yoga again. I'm so sore my downward dog looks more like an abused puppy. On the bright side, while I'm doing my stretches the instructor introduces herself to me and asks if I'm a dancer. She was probably just looking at my tights-under-shorts look but I take this to be a compliment anyway.
7:30 PM: Oh my god. Soreness compounded.
9:00 PM: On the way home my mom asks me in all seriousness, "Carolyn, are you secretly taking diet pills?"
"No," I say regretfully.
"Good," she says, relieved. "because some of those pills cause depression, you know? It's bad to take too much medicine. Besides, you aren't that fat."
I consider throwing myself out of the moving car.
2:00 AM: I guess this is technically day 6 but I don't feel like another day has come if I haven't slept yet so this goes under day 5. My dad comes home after 7 hours of mahjong (no exaggeration required) and yells at us for having more than one light on ("ELECTRICITY BILL EXPENSIVE") and I secretly think "hey if you stop losing $200 a night maybe we can afford some electricity up in here." I guess this also has nothing to do with dieting unless I can somehow connect it to the fact that I think we are totally being "financially sound" on the wrong things (like electricity and low-fat food) while spending on unnecessary things (gambling problem?). Oh look, I just did.
Oh, I'm bitchy? YOU TRY BEING SORE AND THEN DENYING YOURSELF MCDONALDS ICED COFFEE BECAUSE IT IS OVER 200 CALORIES A SERVING. YEAH I LOOKED IT UP.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Men: They're Either Taking Your Lunch or Boinking Your Best Friend.
So remember how I said I was totally going to lose weight when I came home this summer, under the theory that I will be so bored I'll actually go to the gym?
Well apparently no amount of boredom has that power. Instead what I end up doing is plowing determinedly through my list of "movies I've wanted to seen since forever but never got around to until now" like it was free cheesecake. Wait, so I guess this post has two parts.
Part 1 is about how my dad keeps my diet on track without either of us meaning for it to happen. As far as I know. Dad?
Part 2 is about the movie I saw yesterday and how I might have rage issues.
Just clearing that up for you.
So the other day I went to the dentist and when the appointment was over I was glad because going to the dentist sucks and also because my dad had said that we were going to get pho at Kim Long, which is only the best pho place I've ever been to in my life.
When we got there I ordered the same thing I always order (#3 regular) and my dad ordered a #2 regular, which was odd because he usually orders a large. Oh it became clear real soon though.
"I ordered a regular because I'm taking some of your noodles," he said, sounding very satisfied with himself. "You won't be able to finish anyway."
I haven't had trouble finishing a regular since elementary school, but I was stuck in the trap of being a girl and totally had to pretend like I had a dainty appetite and could survive on bean sprouts and lemon juice. So when our bowls came my dad started shoveling my noodles into his bowl until there were literally no noodles left. "Oops," he said, laughing. "Almost took all of it." He maneuvered a few strands back into my bowl. "There you go," he said cheerfully.
Oh you think I'm exaggerating. I'm so not. There was seriously like 1/5 of the original amount left. And I was starving again an hour later. Except I was at home by then, and I'd almost rather die of starvation than get out of my chair and actually make something, so voila. Daddy: instant diet.
The day before I went to the dentist I watched The Duchess because I love Keira Knightley and have no life. I'm ambivalent about the movie but if I were Lady Georgiana oh my history would have been so different. Well maybe not because I'm all talk, but seriously if I had gone through all that she had to go through, I would've packed my kids off with a good nanny on a long vacation and then shanked my sorry excuse for a husband before setting his wig on fire and locking him in the dungeon. I'm getting mad just thinking about it.
Well apparently no amount of boredom has that power. Instead what I end up doing is plowing determinedly through my list of "movies I've wanted to seen since forever but never got around to until now" like it was free cheesecake. Wait, so I guess this post has two parts.
Part 1 is about how my dad keeps my diet on track without either of us meaning for it to happen. As far as I know. Dad?
Part 2 is about the movie I saw yesterday and how I might have rage issues.
Just clearing that up for you.
So the other day I went to the dentist and when the appointment was over I was glad because going to the dentist sucks and also because my dad had said that we were going to get pho at Kim Long, which is only the best pho place I've ever been to in my life.
When we got there I ordered the same thing I always order (#3 regular) and my dad ordered a #2 regular, which was odd because he usually orders a large. Oh it became clear real soon though.
"I ordered a regular because I'm taking some of your noodles," he said, sounding very satisfied with himself. "You won't be able to finish anyway."
I haven't had trouble finishing a regular since elementary school, but I was stuck in the trap of being a girl and totally had to pretend like I had a dainty appetite and could survive on bean sprouts and lemon juice. So when our bowls came my dad started shoveling my noodles into his bowl until there were literally no noodles left. "Oops," he said, laughing. "Almost took all of it." He maneuvered a few strands back into my bowl. "There you go," he said cheerfully.
Oh you think I'm exaggerating. I'm so not. There was seriously like 1/5 of the original amount left. And I was starving again an hour later. Except I was at home by then, and I'd almost rather die of starvation than get out of my chair and actually make something, so voila. Daddy: instant diet.
The day before I went to the dentist I watched The Duchess because I love Keira Knightley and have no life. I'm ambivalent about the movie but if I were Lady Georgiana oh my history would have been so different. Well maybe not because I'm all talk, but seriously if I had gone through all that she had to go through, I would've packed my kids off with a good nanny on a long vacation and then shanked my sorry excuse for a husband before setting his wig on fire and locking him in the dungeon. I'm getting mad just thinking about it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Why My Diet is Not Working
Exhibit A
carolyn (10:47:37 PM): have you seen
carolyn (10:47:40 PM): thisiswhyyourefat.com
carolyn (10:48:23 PM): I think I have probelms
carolyn (10:48:30 PM): cus a lot of it just looks yummy to me
jam3rz (10:50:23 PM): dude, i was saying the EXACT SAME THING
carolyn (10:50:26 PM): whew
jam3rz (10:50:30 PM): like just a day or two ago
carolyn (10:50:35 PM): thank goodness
jam3rz (10:50:44 PM): mm...fat bitch sandwich
carolyn (10:47:37 PM): have you seen
carolyn (10:47:40 PM): thisiswhyyourefat.com
carolyn (10:48:23 PM): I think I have probelms
carolyn (10:48:30 PM): cus a lot of it just looks yummy to me
jam3rz (10:50:23 PM): dude, i was saying the EXACT SAME THING
carolyn (10:50:26 PM): whew
jam3rz (10:50:30 PM): like just a day or two ago
carolyn (10:50:35 PM): thank goodness
jam3rz (10:50:44 PM): mm...fat bitch sandwich
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Carolyn's Diet Days 1 and 2, or, Why I Suck At Life
Hello. Yesterday I bought the cutest dress in the world, except for one major flaw: it is sleeveless. This is not a flaw on the part of the dress, just on my body. When I wear it. So I am going on a diet. When I told my family the news, my mom clapped, my dad evinced slight exasperation, and Isabel had already heard the same thing so many times she just said the basic obligatory, "no you don't need to" before turning back to her webcam. I sure love having a 5"3 100 lb. younger sister.
Since I made this decision around dinnertime, "day 1" is really just the six waking hours after dinner, which even I couldn't mess up. So for the next 15 days or so this blog will be turned into a diet diary with a play-by-play of mesneaking food when no one is looking winning the war on weight. Consider it my little way of making you feel superior inspired. You're welcome.
Day 1
7 PM: "NO RICE," I say to my mom. "I'm cutting carbs." It is also around this time that the clapping occurs.
8 PM: I make myself a diet plan, which is a notebook page that I've scribbled helpful hints on, such as "WATER ONLY" and "DO YOGA."
9 PM: I'm looking up diet tips online and come across this interesting little fact: "the human stomach is only about the size of a fist, so you should only eat a handful of food at each sitting." I tell this to Stuffin, who helpfully points out, "yeah, but your stomach expands, so.."
"I ONLY NEED TO EAT A HANDFUL OF FOOD," I reply. "THAT'S ALL. IT SAYS SO RIGHT HERE."
9:01 PM: Stuffin stops replying to me.
10 PM: OMG I'M SO HUNGRY. Apparently a dinner of bamboo shoots and baby scallops is not super filling. I drink a lot of water and chew some citrus gum to fool my taste buds into thinking it is drinking orange juice.
1 AM: Oh my god I'm starving. I'm going to bed so I don't have to suffer anymore. Maybe I'll die in my sleep.
Day 2
9 AM: Oh gosh, I'm sorry about that moment of weakness last night. I silently thank myself for not dying in my sleep.
10:30 AM: Jesus I'm starving. I try to delay lunch for as long as possible so I won't have to eat multiple times in the afternoon.
11:00 AM: Screw it. Lunch? Bamboo shoots and steamed spinach. So this is what my life is going to be like from now on. I almost lose my appetite. Almost.
1:00 PM: OH MY GOD I'M STARVING.
1:30 PM: I eat a string cheese and briefly consider bulimia. Throwing up without being drunk just seems like such a waste though, so I watch tv instead.
4:00 PM: I WISH THOSE WALNUT BUTTER COOKIES WOULD STOP STARING AT ME.
6:00 PM: Yoga class. Good. I can work off all those cheese calories. We're late to class again so I get a spot in the very back and every time we do downward facing dog I hope nervously that no one is standing on the other side of the glass walls looking at my pre-diet butt.
7:30 PM: We decide to go eat hot pot for dinner.
8:00 PM: It's a buffet. Goddamn it.
10:00 PM: I'll start again tomorrow.
Since I made this decision around dinnertime, "day 1" is really just the six waking hours after dinner, which even I couldn't mess up. So for the next 15 days or so this blog will be turned into a diet diary with a play-by-play of me
Day 1
7 PM: "NO RICE," I say to my mom. "I'm cutting carbs." It is also around this time that the clapping occurs.
8 PM: I make myself a diet plan, which is a notebook page that I've scribbled helpful hints on, such as "WATER ONLY" and "DO YOGA."
9 PM: I'm looking up diet tips online and come across this interesting little fact: "the human stomach is only about the size of a fist, so you should only eat a handful of food at each sitting." I tell this to Stuffin, who helpfully points out, "yeah, but your stomach expands, so.."
"I ONLY NEED TO EAT A HANDFUL OF FOOD," I reply. "THAT'S ALL. IT SAYS SO RIGHT HERE."
9:01 PM: Stuffin stops replying to me.
10 PM: OMG I'M SO HUNGRY. Apparently a dinner of bamboo shoots and baby scallops is not super filling. I drink a lot of water and chew some citrus gum to fool my taste buds into thinking it is drinking orange juice.
1 AM: Oh my god I'm starving. I'm going to bed so I don't have to suffer anymore. Maybe I'll die in my sleep.
Day 2
9 AM: Oh gosh, I'm sorry about that moment of weakness last night. I silently thank myself for not dying in my sleep.
10:30 AM: Jesus I'm starving. I try to delay lunch for as long as possible so I won't have to eat multiple times in the afternoon.
11:00 AM: Screw it. Lunch? Bamboo shoots and steamed spinach. So this is what my life is going to be like from now on. I almost lose my appetite. Almost.
1:00 PM: OH MY GOD I'M STARVING.
1:30 PM: I eat a string cheese and briefly consider bulimia. Throwing up without being drunk just seems like such a waste though, so I watch tv instead.
4:00 PM: I WISH THOSE WALNUT BUTTER COOKIES WOULD STOP STARING AT ME.
6:00 PM: Yoga class. Good. I can work off all those cheese calories. We're late to class again so I get a spot in the very back and every time we do downward facing dog I hope nervously that no one is standing on the other side of the glass walls looking at my pre-diet butt.
7:30 PM: We decide to go eat hot pot for dinner.
8:00 PM: It's a buffet. Goddamn it.
10:00 PM: I'll start again tomorrow.
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